Stoner Cinema (pt. V)

Bongwater

Humboldt County

High, how are you, my dear readers? I hope you’re staying as chill as possible even though the giant thumb of The Man keeps putting pressure on us all. The world is full of bad vibes, and any effort to create a better, more peaceful vibe is a revolutionary act. That’s why I find it necessary to exercise my basic, human, unalienable rights like voting, protesting, practicing free speech, and watching stoner cinema, of course. Whether or not you personally partake in watching stoner films, I hope you can agree that marijuana is far from the biggest issue facing humanity, though it has been historically used as a deflection from more pressing matters. Study after study after study has proven that THC and CBD can be immensely beneficial to one’s health, 24 out of 50 states have legalized not just medicinal but the recreational use of marijuana, and still there are people wrongly imprisoned for using it and still there is a wildly unfair, uninformed stigma attached to this peaceful plant. I’m just as pro-weed as I am pro-choice: what goes on with one’s body and what goes inside someone’s pipe is their business and their business only, and if you’re against either of these things, I suggest that you simply do not partake! But that’s just me! As a connoisseur of all sorts of psychedelic cinema, I have indulged in stoner double features many‍ ‍many‍ ‍many‍ ‍many times now and I truly never tire of these terrific tales of terpenes and too much stimulation. I’m from Austin, Texas, after all—the birthplace of the cosmic cowboy music genre, the iconic home of Dazed and Confused, an overall odd, blue oasis that loves the green even in our big, intolerant, red state—so I naturally have an appreciation for stoner cinema. And since 4/20 tragically falls on a Monday this year, I thought it would be best if we started celebrating early. Also, you wanna know what’s crazy, man? Both of tonight’s movies are exactly 97 minutes long. Whoa. This genre of film is full of high highs and low lows, and tonight’s sampling of stoner cinema really proved this.

Up first is a film that sounds pretty perfect on paper, but loses its charm the second anyone opens their mouth(s), this is Richard Sears’ 1998 film Bongwater. I know you come to Double Feature Thursday for elite, refined, deeply artistic cinema, so discussing a movie called “Bongwater” was a natural next step. Based on Michael Hornburg’s 1995 novel of the same name, Bongwater introduces us to chronically chill weed dealer David (Luke Wilson) and the tempestuous Serena (Alicia Witt) who blows into his life one day and wreaks all sorts of havoc—least of which being a house fire. Told unnecessarily out of order, we get to know David as a quiet, disinterested, daytime weed-smoker and dealer who lives in Portland, who also creates psychedelic art in his free time. His best friends, a gay couple Tony and Robert (Andy Dick and Jeremy Sisto), are seemingly always over at David’s place getting stoned, including the day that Serena comes marching in with her unconscious friend, Jennifer (Amy Locane.) Serena fears that Jennifer may have OD’ed on something she bought from David, but he insists that he’s only a simple, humble weed dealer. Tony then slaps Jennifer and says “wake up, bitch!” and when Jennifer comes to, she clarifies that it wasn’t David that sold her the stuff, but do we ever find out who did or what the hell happened? No. Relieved but still pissed for some reason, Serena makes herself at home in David’s house—snooping through his room and kitchen, and eventually discovering his alien-centric artwork, which she takes a strong liking to. As Serena details some mind-numbingly senseless info to her new friend, there is a constant, nagging soft-plucking of a guitar that lasted so long I began to feel insane, and the dialogue only contributed to this feeling further. An unknown amount of time passes by and Serena is seemingly now David’s roommate and art agent, as she explains how he could be great if he didn’t have “the pot thing.” Serena seems both charmed by and annoyed with David’s laid back approach to life, which I could somewhat understand, but when Serena breaks something of David’s then says, “Oops, sorry. That was my evil twin ;)”, I knew with full confidence that I was actually gonna hate everything about this. Serena introduces David to a local art gallery owner named Mary Weiss (Brittany Murphy) who immediately takes a shine to this sexy, sleepy stoner, and though Serena tries to act like she’s better than him, she clearly has feelings for this aimless weed guy. David says it’d be cool if he had his own art show, Serena asserts that Mary just wants to fuck him, and the two leads have a toxic will-they-won’t-they thing for a minute until Serena decides to run off to New York with an insane stranger named Tommy (Jamie Kennedy.) They continue to do the will-they-won’t-they thing from a distance, and eventually, through trials and unnecessarily brutal tribulations, the two end up together, for some asinine reason. Perhaps I’ve done a poor job of summarizing this film, but I can’t recall the last time I watched a movie with storytelling this disjointed and tonally-dizzying. Bongwater just sort of floats from one scene to the next, feigning interest in one perspective then another, no character or relationship or arch ever fully materializing. Luke Wilson and Alicia Witt have zero chemistry, and Witt’s character Serena is one of the most objectionable characters ever written. Each moment she was on screen she was a rancid, rotted, pretentious troll, who caused me to involuntarily roll my eyes with nearly every snobby, angry line uttered. I’m all for off-putting women with bad personalities who use men, but characters like Serena give this archetype a bad name because there was just no substance to her! There was nothing redeemable or compelling about her, only when Andy Dick was throwing fire-crotch-heavy insults at her did I feel the slightest twinge of sympathy. You know its bad when I agree with the distasteful bros in a distasteful movie, but I did! Especially when Serena lies about being a Pisces, Tommy discovers her license, reads her birthday, and rightfully calls her out for being a “fucking Gemini” in reality. The character of Serena was allegedly based on Courtney Love, and if I were her and I saw this, I’d either sue or make some major life changes or both. Though this film attempts to follow the parallel storylines of David and Serena, it doesn’t seem particularly interested in either character, as it lazily builds its love story out of dingey locations and deceitful friends and one bummer after another. The genuinely cool counter culture of 1990s Portland is not at all present here, and what should’ve been a fun hang out movie with a stacked cast (I didn’t even mention Jack Black is in this and plays a man named Devlin) ended up being a parade of bad, weird vibes. I mourn what this movie could’ve been, what a triumph of a stoner character study this might’ve been if it had been in the right hands. At the very least, Bongwater should’ve been WAY funnier! I was almost appalled by how unfunny of a film this was. At least Jack Black and Brittany Murphy were hilarious, and at least Luke Wilson was hot, but these are truly the only positives to this aggravating movie.

A movie that was full of way more positives, but still became bogged down by at least one, major negative, was tonight’s next film: Darren Grodsky and Danny Jacobs’ film Humboldt County. Humboldt County, which debuted at SXSW in 2008, introduces us to an uptight and sheepish UCLA medical student named Peter Hadley (Jeremy Strong), just as his professor—who happens to also be his father (played by Peter Bogdanovich)—gives him a failing grade on his final exam. The actress who played Peter’s patient in his med school final—a quirky and alluring woman who calls herself Bogart (Fairuza Balk)—tries to cheer him up by inviting him to see her jazz band play that night, and after watching the crowd of the dive bar go unrealistically wild for her performance, Bogart takes Peter back to her place. He then assumes she is a sex worker, because his self esteem is so low that he cannot fathom her organically wanting to sleep with him. Miraculously, she still wants to hook up with him, and the next morning, he decides to tag along with her to wherever she’s going. Peter is beyond burned out, so when this manic pixie dreamgirl shows up and offers to whisk him away to her hometown, he happily obliges, and catches some much-needed sleep on the journey. The two eventually wind up at the mecca of marijuana: Humboldt County, California. Once the only haven for humble horticultural enthusiasts and weed business owners, Humboldt County is a Micropolitan slice of heaven sandwiched between miles of towering redwoods and miles of glimmering ocean. But to Peter, this place is far from peaceful, as him and Bogart are greeted by an older couple, brandishing a shotgun. Jack and Rosie (Brad Dourif and Frances Conroy), as they’re soon revealed to be, took Bogart in after her parents abandoned her long ago, and raised her as one of their own free-spirited, good-vibing children. Close-minded and anxious, Peter is a fish out of water in this hippie wonderland, and is intimidated by the illegal substances and easygoing nature of the residents. Jack and Rosie have a son named Max (sexy sexy Chris Messina), who is Bogart’s on-again-off-again lover, and along with Max’s daughter, Charity (Madison Davenport), this sweet family pleads with Bogart to stick around, but she disappears the very next day. This leaves not-so-slick city boy Peter without a ride back to LA, a fact that feeds into his ongoing existential career crisis and fills him with dread. Max tries to get Peter involved with his crops, which are quite close to blooming, but at every turn Peter is frightened and confused and eager to get back to his normal, stressful life. But when Peter decides to surrender himself to the ecstasy of this fairytale forest and finally takes a hit from Max’s joint, his mind and heart opens—experiencing what I can only describe as the mumblecore version of the Grinch’s heart growing. Seeing this kind, warm family of weed farmers, the beautiful community they’ve built, the impressive school they constructed by hand and fund themselves, Peter smiles for the first time in a very, very long time. He trades his clean-cut sweater vest for a California Republic tee, he learns the ways of covert irrigation and planting, how the narcs and the feds operate and seek to destroy this harmless, barely-alive industry. I loved seeing Kendall Roy learn the healing powers of marijuana, I loved how everyone still called it “pot” during this era, and Chris Messina’s hair and beard combo is so perfect in this film that I curse the costume designer every time he’s covered up in a bandana or weird hat (which happens a bit too often.) Overall, I was thoroughly enjoying the sweet, softboi vibe of this film, until my least favorite mumblecore trope kicked in: the big, sad twist. UGH. I won’t say what happens, but I will tell you it is so out of nowhere, so cruel, and so unnecessary. This movie already had plenty of depth and layers and Frances Conroy even gave one of her signature, haunting monologues—so WHY would they deploy some sad, sad bullshit in the last twelve minutes of this movie? It’s this kind of storytelling choice that almost completely ruins a movie for me, and pretty much guarantees that I will never rewatch it, or remember anything from it beyond the big, sad twist. The cast and the ideas of both of tonight’s stoner films were excellent, and yet they both somehow managed to be bad trips—consider me dazed and confused for all the wrong reasons. Well that’s enough unstimulating stoner content for one sesh, but thank you, as always for reading and vibing along. Happy holidaze! 💚